Page 11 of Under the Bed

And again.

And—

The driver presses the button to open the back door. He presses another button, and a ramp is lowered to the ground.

“Get in, freak,” Dick hisses. He’s close enough that I smell beef jerky on his breath, and the acrid smoke of his cigarettes.

He gets the same nod Doc Reynolds did. I climb the ramp to the van, shoulders slumped, head bowed. I’m hunched over so I can walk in without banging my forehead.

It’s also meant to trick him into believing he’s won. That I’ll stay seated on this bench I just sat down on. Won’t bother him throughout this trip.

A ruse he’s falling for.

His smug grin tells me as much.

People. They really ought to stop letting their feelings rule their actions.

“You and me…” He crouches at my feet, securing another cuff to my leg and then to the bench. He’s shaking it to make sure it won’t budge. That I won’t break free.

Laughable.

“We have some unfinished business to settle on the road.” As he yanks on the chain, his muscles bulge beneath his dark gray guard uniform. “A score to settle.”

I could end this right now. Kill him in a heartbeat without even using my hands.

So could he. A few blows to my head with his baton and I’d be done.

But this isn’t the right time. We have an audience.

Soon, though…

The ramp goes up. The door slides shut.

Dick is up on his feet, waving to Dr. Reynolds through the window.

While he’s busy playing my dutiful babysitter, I sneak a glance at the driver, assessing the threat up close. He’s in his forties. His blond hair is long, pulled into a low ponytail. Has to weigh over two-fifty, easy.

He doesn’t stand a chance against me.

Won’t be able to when I have a hard-on to fuck and torture and own my stepsister.

Nothing and no one will keep me from her.

Shiloh.

The van’s engine rumbles as we cross the gravel. It settles by the time we reach the paved road.

Maple trees line each side of the path. Orange and red leaves decorate their branches. They stand out against the gray skies, a simmering fire. Reminds me of the one that’s constantly burning inside my heart.

The scorching whisper that won’t let me be.

Shiloh. Shiloh. Shiloh.

“Just you and me, psycho.” Look at that chickenshit, staying way over there by the driver’s seat where he drops his bag. He’ll be safe there. Temporarily. “Mr. Driver, here?—”

“Oswald,” the man behind the wheel huffs. As if that matters.

“Oswald.” Dick licks his upper lip, removing the baton from his belt and slamming it against his open palm.Tap. Tap. Tap.

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